Merrill Quicksketch
by XX55XX
Summary: Although we know little about the companions so far, I decided to publish a one-shot between Hawke and Merrill, assuming that Merrill will be a romance-able companion. Note: This piece of fanfiction is not canon and should not be regarded as such.


**Note: Everything written below is not canon and should not be considered canon. **

**Merrill: Quicksketch**

The fortress of Par Vollen stood in the distance, illuminated by fireballs bouncing off the forts great sloped granite walls. Under such a sustained assault by both mages and artillery, the battlements upon the top of the walls were barely recognizable, for these battlements were destroyed under the fury of fire and brute physical force.

Hawke sighed and retired to his tent. Artillery was only a limited tool – he and his allies must storm the walls on their feet and fight with their hands if it is to fall. They will do so tomorrow.

The tent was small – large enough to accommodate only a bed and a small desk, and nothing more. Hawke reviewed the dispatches that the courier had brought in earlier that day – apparently, the men stationed at Par Vollen had rejected his call for their surrender. _Oh well_, Hawke thought, grasping a quill violently and nearly spilling the ink bottle next to it, _they will be crushed_.

He wrote a reply and delivered it to the courier waiting outside. The courier fixed a white feather onto his cap, and sprinted towards Par Vollen.

Hawke went back inside the tent. He kicked off his boots and laid upon the bed, reviewing the events of the day... his eyes slowly closed in acknowledgment of how exhausted he was. The roof of the tent disappeared. He was now swirling in a state of darkness, not truly awake, but not truly asleep either... As his mind vacillated between wakefulness and unconsciousness, he heard a voice.

"Hawke?" a voice whispered near the entrance of his tent. He snapped back into a conscious state. His eyes opened. He recognized it as Merrill's voice.

"Merrill?" he grumbled, turning over to see Merrill walking towards him. "What are you doing here? Go to sleep – there will be a big battle tomorrow."

"I can't sleep," Merrill admitted, seating herself besides Hawke's legs and laying her staff upon the ground. "And, shortly after dinner, I thought about the hug you gave me a few weeks ago – did you mean it?"

"Yes, I did mean it," Hawke said, rising from the bed and seating himself next to Merrill.

"But, did you really mean it?" The elf looked at Hawke longingly in the eyes. Her pointed ears perked upwards. Hawke felt as though she was trying to read his mind – albeit fruitlessly.

"You want to know?" Hawked asked, gazing at Merrill's eyes for a brief moment before getting up from the bed and walking towards the tent's entrance. He felt a great sense of foreboding eating away at his heart. It had just dawned upon him that Merrill was very young; much, much younger than he. Merrill was a full ten years younger than he was – she was only a mere seventeen years of age, and he, twenty-seven. _Was it proper_?

"Yes," Merrill replied. Hawke could not see her face, but he knew that she was smiling – giving off that signature poker face that always kept him at ease during their travels together.

"Merrill, you can sleep here for the night if it will put your mind at ease," Hawke said slowly.

"But there is only one bed!"

"Would you rather sleep on the ground, then? I do not have any extra blankets."

"I suppose we can sleep together..." Merrill giggled. Hawke turned around. Her lips were curling into a slight grin.

"Okay. I'm going to extinguish the lamp." Hawke blew on the candle in the lamp on the table, draping the interior of the tent in darkness.

Merrill laid upon the bed in a resting position. Hawke did the same. He threw the blankets over himself and her.

"So, here we are sleeping... before the great battle. Do you think we live tomorrow? Will this be our last night together before dawn breaks?" Merrill asked earnestly. She squirmed slightly beneath the blankets, attempting to adjust herself into a more comfortable position.

"If it is, then we should make it special. Very special." Hawke replied. He placed an arm over her abdomen and tickled it with his fingers.

"Oh! Stop – tickling – ME!" Merrill exclaimed, squirming and laughing at the same time. Hawke felt her roll off the bed and onto the ground. A dull thud cracked in the relative silence within the tent.

Merrill stood up. "Very funny, Hawke. Let me tickle your armpits and see how you feel! In fact, as a mage, I can tickle your armpits using only my mind! I don't need fingers like you!" She froze for a moment, as if attempting to concentrate all of her mental energy into tickling Hawke's armpits without having to resort to her fingers.

"You can't tickle my armpits with your mind," Hawke scoffed. "Silly little Dalish, aren't you?"

Merrill dropped her frozen stance and sighed. "There is no impressing you, is there, Hawke? My magical abilities – which have saved your sorry hide more times than your sword has saved mine – do not impress you? What will impress you, then?" She grinned, half-serious, half-joking.

"For starters... you can kiss me." Hawke leaned forward.

Merrill took a step back, apparently surprised by such a statement. The playful demeanor which she had exuded for the last fifteen minutes dissipated, like air leaving a balloon.

"Hawke, I believe I have forgotten to say... I have very little experience in such matters..." She frowned slightly, hesitant.

"I understand. If you do not want to do this, I respect your decision completely..." Hawke said quietly. Before he could complete his sentence, Merrill suddenly leaped onto the bed and leaned forward upon Hawke. Hawke could see every minute detail of Merrill's youthful and beautiful face, including the small mole on her left cheek and the intricate piece of vallaslin which dominated her forehead.

For a brief moment, Hawke and Merrill stared at one another, breathing heavily. Then, her lips met his. Their tongues met next. After a minute or so, Merrill broke away from Hawke.

"Impressive enough for you?" Merrill's eyes twinkled.

"You are a good kisser... for a virgin." Hawke replied, slightly shocked by Merrill's sudden willingness.

Merrill heaved. "Let's keep going, then," she whispered. Their lips met again for yet another passionate kiss.

Despite the muffled sound of artillery in the distance, it was still a memorable evening for the pair involved.

And so, a young elf found her love requited, and a warrior finally met his match.


End file.
